


No.12 Broken Bones

by LiGi



Series: Whumptober 2020 [12]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Broken Bones, Jousting, Whumptober 2020, arthur being a prat, no 12, physician Merlin, sir leon being noble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiGi/pseuds/LiGi
Summary: Whumptober 2020 no 12 - Broken bonesArthur has a jousting accident.
Relationships: Leon & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Whumptober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053113
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	No.12 Broken Bones

**No. 12 – Broken bones**

Arthur clicked his fingers at Merlin who was talking to his horse. Merlin jumped and followed him, taking the horse’s reins. Arthur held his head high as he strode back into the tilt yard. The crowd erupted again, trumpeters heralding his approach.

Merlin grinned as he held the horse so Arthur could mount.

“The people love their prince,” Merlin commented, shaking his head.

“Of course they do,” Arthur said, pulling a face at Merlin’s annoying ability to state the obvious all the time.

“Can’t think why,” Merlin continued. “They obviously don’t realise what a big prat you are.”

Arthur pulled his foot from the stirrup and kicked Merlin hard in the chest, sending his tumbling to the floor. He scowled up at Arthur, his hands planted either side of him in the mud.

“Proving my point there!” he shouted.

Arthur just raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“I hope he knocks you off your horse,” Merlin grumbled, gesturing to the other end of the tilt where his opponent, Sir Leon, was mounting his own horse.

“Doubt it,” Arthur scoffed. He held his hand out for his shield, but Merlin of course didn’t have it ready. Luckily a young squire had followed them from the tent at the side of the tournament ground, Arthur’s helmet and shield in his hands.

“Just because you think you’re better than everyone else…”

“I’m better than Leon,” Arthur said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He held it out again for his shield.

The squire stepped forward importantly, his chest puffed out. He couldn’t have been more than ten.

“My lord,” he said, handing the shield to Merlin and bowing low to Arthur.

“See that,” Arthur pointed at the boy, whose face had flushed red now. “That is respect, Merlin. You’d do well to try it.”

“Thanks, Kel, you’re doing a great job,” Merlin told the boy, taking the shield from him. The boy blushed even harder.

Of course Merlin would know the boy’s name. Every bloody person in Camelot seemed to be on first name terms with his stupid servant, and Merlin was polite and kind to all of them. It was only Arthur he talked back to and insulted.

Arthur scowled and refused to look at Merlin as he strapped the shield onto his left arm, securing it around his forearm. He shifted his shoulder, getting the heavy wood to settle comfortably.

“Helmet, please, _Kel_.” He spoke deliberately, looking directly at the boy. He almost collapsed, bowing so low that it was a wonder he didn’t pitch forwards. Arthur gave Merlin a pointed look over the boy’s bent back. Merlin curled his lip.

Once the boy had straightened from his ridiculous bow he handed Arthur his helmet.

“Thank you, my lord. Your Highness!” he cried then scuttled off, beaming.

Arthur grinned to himself.

“That helmet won’t fit if you keep letting your head swell.”

Arthur stopped grinning. He was tempted to kick Merlin again but settled for snatching the reins from him instead. He settled his helmet on his head, snapping the visor down and nudged his horse into a trot to the end of the tilt.

The crowd cheered again.

“Prince Arthur!” The list master shouted, drawing even more applause and whistling from the crowd. “Sir Leon!” A fair amount of applause thundered for Leon as well, he was well liked by the crowds as one of the best knights in the kingdom.

Merlin handed up Arthur’s lance.

“Good luck, my lord.”

Arthur squinted down at him through the narrow slit in his visor, trying to gauge if he was being sarcastic. He couldn’t tell. He lifted his lance, adjusting his grip until it felt comfortable in his hand.

He readied his lance, raised his shield and pressed the balls of his feet down in the stirrups. The list master lifted the white flag…

The crowd roared as the flag was dropped, the two horses surging forwards at a strong canter. Arthur levelled his lance, rising to his feet in the stirrups, leaning forwards, bracing for the impact of his lance ploughing into Leon’s shield.

Closer… closer…

He let himself rise and fall with the horse’s movements, his eyes narrowed along the length of his lance, ready to strike…

There was an almighty crash and pain exploded in his left arm. He was forced back in the saddle, the black clouds of agony blurring his vision. A loud cry echoed around his helmet. He swayed, his lance – broken from his own hit against Leon’s shield – slipping from his fingers.

His horse kept running, trained to run to the end of the tilt, even when his grip on the reins slackened and he toppled forwards against her neck. She stopped and turned at the end of the tilt, prancing nervously at the lack of response from him. Someone was shouting his name.

Several figures were running towards him but through the pain and the slit in his visor he couldn’t make out more than vague shapes. Hands took the reins, his horse settling.

Someone had their hands him, on his thigh and his lower back. They were holding him in the saddle, stopping him slipping sideways off the horse. He reached up and yanked his helmet off, the weight of it pulling his arm back down the minute it slipped off his head. He grimaced and let it drop to the ground.

It was Merlin holding him, of course. He’d also been the one shouting his name. His face was etched with concern.

“Arthur! Are you–” he started, one hand reaching for the shield, the other steady on his thigh still.

Arthur tried to pull himself upright in his saddle. He still had his pride, even if he was winded and gasping for breath against the constant screaming agony in his arm, shoulder and ribs.

“I’m not a girl, Merlin,” he managed to squeeze out through lips that wanted to scream. “I can take a hit.” He’d been jousting for years and this was hardly the worst hit he’d had.

“Not like that one. I think your arm might be broken.”

Well that explained the excruciating pain then.

He looked over at the stands; his father had risen from his throne, one hand on the railing on front of him and a frown on his face, but he made no move to come closer. He looked disappointed that his son had been defeated, more than worried his son had been hurt. Arthur let out a grunt and turned back to Merlin.

“Let’s get you back to the tent,” Merlin said calmly.

The young squire from earlier – Arthur had forgotten his name already – was holding his reins, stroking the horse’s nose while staring wide eyed at Arthur. Merlin chivvied him on and he began leading the horse back off the tilt yard.

When they got to Arthur’s tent Merlin reached up to hook a hand under Arthur’s armpit. Arthur braced his good arm against Merlin’s shoulder, gritting his teeth and groaning as he slid off the horse. His feet had barely touched the ground when someone else ran to his side.

“Sire!” Leon’s hair was plastered to his face with sweat, his gaze scanning Arthur quickly. He fell to one knee at Arthur’s feet, his head bowed. “My apologies, my lord. I’m sorry. I never intended to injure you.”

“Rise, Sir Leon,” Arthur said wearily. “It is a tournament, you are meant to hit me.”

“But you are the Crown Prince, my lord.”

He rolled his eyes and looked down at Leon, who had not risen from his knees yet.

“Get on your bloody feet, Leon,” he snapped. His arm was throbbing and he found he didn’t have the patience to listen to his friend apologising any more.

“Sorry, my lord.” Leon stood.

Arthur nodded then looked away from him. Merlin was still standing beside him, propping him up with an arm around his back.

“Sir Leon,” Merlin started, clearly trying to take charge of the situation. “I need to get his shield off his arm, could you help?” He pushed Arthur into a chair, still supporting his injured arm carefully.

“Of course, shall I fetch Gaius?”

“No, just, hold the shield, take its weight while I undo the straps.”

Arthur tried not to yelp as the shield was jostled on his arm. Leon held it gently where Merlin told him to, pulling it slowly away from Arthur’s body so Merlin could get his hands in behind it. Merlin’s fingers were like daggers up his wrist, every touch agonizing despite his manservant’s gentleness.

He found he was holding his breath as Merlin unfastened the two straps that held the shield to his arm, one on his wrist the other just below the crook of his elbow. He let the breath out with a sharp yell as Merlin slid his arm out of the straps.

The shield had been holding it steady like a splint but now without the support of the strong wood, it was throbbing and burning, sending pain radiating up his shoulder.

“Yep definitely broken,” Merlin said, slowly pushing Arthur’s chainmail up his elbow. “Find Gaius,” he asked Leon, who immediately dropped the shield to the floor beside Arthur’s chair and sprinted from the tent.

Arthur let his head fall back against the chair, a groan forcing its way out of his throat.

“So,” Merlin started, the tone of his voice telling Arthur he was about to be insulted or teased. “You’re better than Sir Leon, are you?”

“Yes,” he said stubbornly.

“Sir Leon doesn’t have a broken arm.”

He aimed a kick at Merlin’s shin but Merlin stepped to the side easily.

“Sir Leon is a fine knight with excellent jousting skills,” Arthur said. “He got in a very good hit.”

Merlin nodded sagely. “So what does that make you then? A prat with _bad_ jousting skills?”

“Your prince.”

He was saved from having to try and hit Merlin over the head without jostling his broken arm by the arrival of Gaius, who swatted Merlin out of the way and deposited his physician’s bag into his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love any and all reviews!


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